Write as if he spits up ... do not know what the mood is perfect for writing. Fewer still, what are the physical, economic / material and even more favorable geographic and / or unfavorable to do so. Some say it is in the extreme, the absolute deprivation or satisfaction, in which the writing finds its most fertile land. Namely. One wonders again and again, wandering trying to find the answers and then pass ideal. Marguerite Duras said that writing as night comes and goes as is everything in life ... no wait. She who wrote the wording of different moods. In extreme conditions. Maybe not material deprivation but of others: alcohol sick, sick with pain and loneliness. And from that perspective on life, writing was his salvation: "(...) found in a hole in the bottom of a hole in a almost total darkness, and know that only the script will save .... "
While typing this, I think different states of mind for those who move soil in one day and it overwhelms me the idea that with so many emotional swings, hardly shall find the ideal time to sit down and write without thinking about anything more than the keyboard and what I am emptying into him. a couple of nights ago I was seized with a mixture of emotions, almost agitations, which surprised me I myself know intensit. Terrible that the trigger was not something or someone close to me. Not a family member or loved one, friend etc., But heard the news by telephone. It was a story about unknown creatures, which all of a sudden put before me a complete picture, pure and without exaggeration gore, horror we currently live in Mexico. Horror that most of the Mexicans we seem not to look. As if we did not live in a country where the Federal Government (inept, stubborn and arrogant) is fighting a no-war against organized crime. No-war doomed, even if its preachers employed media and Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, say otherwise. Mexicans, and all but try not to think about it, we are likely to swell the ranks of the collateral damage euphemism with which the President (apparently educated in the worst Hollywood movies) calls the innocent victims of his stupid non-war . The news, which may or left in the local press: "in a village near Acapulco, a young woman, oblivious to organized crime, poor, helpless as we all are unarmed, was killed along with their young children (from approx. 5-6 years). So just because some bastards they came to kill her. What kind of beast is capable of binding feet and hands to get his two children and then shot in the forehead? What the hell goes through the minds of these beings, or animals that I can call because that would offend members of the animal kingdom, which leads them to do such a thing? I do not know. I've wondered repeatedly found no answer. I guess some would say that at this stage of non-war and should not amaze me. When you have exceeded the 36 thousand dead (and counting), just in the years leading to govern-sic-Felipe Calderón Hinojosa, what are three or four more? But they are. Although nobody seems to care. [Killing a gringo agent infiltrated Mexican land and national authorities are mobilized and then give up the murderer and the weapon (coming from Texas, of course). Kill thousands of Mexicans and the authorities are worth a shit (pardon my French, but I'm not to finesse). When not in its infinite arrogance has the gall to declare that sure they (the victims) were asking for it]. The fact is that I got angry. A lot. I've never had a highly developed maternal instinct, I almost started to mourn on the phone while my father talked to me. Do not know why I was able to both the news and then the sadness came anger and, of course, impotence. Some would say that neither won anything in anger, than angry or not, will matazón as life, if you do not have relations with "criminal" nothing will happen. (You ever seen such naivete or arrogance ... so to speak). Go comfort. Those who say such bullshit, I love this idiom Argentine-I remember those who have AIDS early in the disease said that he was gay only, not the decent people , and that they "gay" it had sought- ... won by dissolute. Just the same.
So I prefer to get angry and rant before they become zombie. Sure, there to live fear, in total paranoia, then neither. Although perhaps those who live in destitution, in a dimension inhabited by flowers, butterflies and other ingredients of the world Strawberry Shortcake ... are happier than me. No. Without perhaps. Sure they are. Ignorance is bliss. Say. But since it is one or the other thing ... life goes on and the night comes, as I said the Duras, and I write my anger but not any good, just childish ... catharsis
Post Scriptum. The same night that my father gave me this terrible news, I learned that they had killed seven people, including the son of Mexican poet Javier Sicilia. Within hours, a young university student spent 24 years as one of the thousands of collateral damage.
How sad the murder of the son of Javier Sicilia. As much as the murder of hundreds of children and adults anonymous. How sad this Mexico.
*****
«No me importa cuál sea el paso en falso que te haga caer sobre mi cuerpo»
Marguerite Yourcenar
Marguerite Yourcenar
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